


I'll Come Back

by RoseLanding



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Gen, M/M, Murder, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5960509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseLanding/pseuds/RoseLanding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's your name?" "...Kellen." "Kellen. I'll come back."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Come Back

“What’s your name?” “…Kellen.” “Kellen. I’ll come back.”

\---

Almost an hour had passed before Daud returned to the basement, pulling along his sobbing and begging target by the hair. The boy called Kellen had propped himself against the wall, and watched with blank eyes as Daud approached him, blood splattered over the assassin's boots and legs.

He shoved the aristocrat to the floor, snapping the chain and its key free from around his neck. “Please,” The man sobbed, tears and snot running down his beaten and battered face. Daud’s knuckle were sore and scuffed in places, but it had been worth it. “You can have the boy, take him! Just let me live…” Daud ignored him, pulling a chair around before moving to crouch by Kellen’s side.

With gentle hands he slipped the key into each of the shackles around the boy’s bony ankles and wrists, lips tightening into an angry line as they revealed the scabs upon scars underneath. Daud took in his other injuries, making a mental note to track down the best doctor he could once they returned to the flooded district. His ankles appeared to be broken, and a few of his fingers were crooked, suggesting past breaks in those as well. Scars marred his tiny body, from his shoulders, all the way to his pale thighs.

Daud lifted Kellen carefully, moving him over to the chair, and the boy hissed lowly as his feet came to rest against the floor, dull pain pulsing through his ankles. It was a familiar pain, and no longer caused him to howl and scream from the agony.

Daud seized the chittering aristocrat by the hair once more, tugging him forward until he stood before Kellen, the old man’s fearful eyes darting between the assassin and his prisoner. Daud unsheathed his dagger, pressing the pommel into the palm of Kellen’s hand, and though he tried to grip it, his hands were stiff and weak from disuse. Face hardening, Daud curled his own hand around the boys, securing the dagger in the both of their fists before tugging his babbling and crying target closer.

Meeting the boy’s eyes, Daud tugged the aristocrat forward, impaling him on the dagger. His face fell slack, a low wail falling from his gaping mouth, and Daud focused his gaze on Kellen. His eyes gleamed darkly for the first time, no longer the blank, expressionless face of desperation. With a satisfied sigh, Daud tugged the blade from the man's belly and drew it up to slice his throat, splashing their hands with blood.


End file.
